


hold the line

by vulpesvortex



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Interrogation, M/M, Protectiveness, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvortex/pseuds/vulpesvortex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benji and Will get in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold the line

**Author's Note:**

> I got excited about the new M:I movie so I decided to celebrate by doing a quick kinkmeme fill.

Alan Gerard was a dangerous man. Benji’d read his file: his organization spanned most of the East Coast and included weapon sales, drugs smuggling, human trafficking, and more than a dozen suspected executions - the works.  
  
As such, Benji was more than a little disconcerted to be strapped to a chair in Gerard’s warehouse, the man himself standing over him with a knife.  
  
“You’re gonna tell me who you’re working for,” Gerard said, low and threatening, running the tip of the blade over Benji’s jaw. “And where you’ve taken my shipment.”  
  
Next to him, Brandt shifted restlessly in his chair, similarly bound. His handcuffs clanked against the railing of the chair.  
  
Benji kept his mouth shut, lifting his chin defiantly, acting braver than he felt.  
  
He’d been trained for interrogations, torture even, but he was aware it wasn’t his best area. By IMF standards, he was a little squeamish and had a tendency to run his mouth when nervous. Not ideal in the situation.  
  
But he wouldn’t back down. Not when his team depended on it. Not in front of Will.  
  
Gerard slashed the knife down, slicing a quick cut across Benji’s bare forearm, tied to the arm of the chair. Benji hissed.  
  
“No?” Gerard said, sounding amused. Like a cat with a new plaything. “Nothing?”  
  
“I’m not telling you anything. You’re wasting your time.”  
  
“I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive.” Gerard went back to stroking the knife across his skin, adding another cut almost casually.  
  
Benji heard Brandt inhale harshly through his nose like an angry bull.  
  
_Quiet!_ Benji thought with an edge of panic. He didn’t want Gerard’s attention to turn to Will. Betraying his team was worse than almost anything Gerard could do to him, but he wasn’t sure the same thing applied when it was Will’s life on the line.  
  
“Go fuck yourself,” Benji snapped, drawing Gerard’s attention back to himself.  
  
Gerard smacked him hard across the face. Benji’s lip burned, split and bleeding. He didn’t even have time to spit out the blood before Gerard punched him in the gut.  
  
“Wanker,” he gasped, doubled over in the chair.  
  
The knife was back on his face, pressing dangerously close to his eye. Gerard tapped his cheek with the blade, almost playfully. “You _are_ going to tell me what I want to know, one way or the other.” His smile had a decided sadistic streak to it as he motioned to the stainless steel table behind him, on which Benji could make out an assortment of metal tools.  
  
He swallowed hard as his gut plummeted three stories down to the ground floor. This was going to hurt.  
  
He couldn’t resist a glance at Will. He knew that he shouldn’t, too dangerous to let on that he mattered. One look would be enough to reveal to Gerard that he had all the leverage he needed right here. Benji could take this. For Will and Ethan and Jane, he could. He just needed one look at Will to bolster himself against what was to come. Gerard’s back was turned, this would be his one chance--  
  
Will was breathing hard, jaw clenched tight against the anger coiling in him just under the surface. And then, miraculously, he shot Benji a reassuring grin. There was a glint in his teeth…something metal – a paperclip!  
  
The idiots who’d ambushed them had missed it when they’d searched them for weapons.  
  
Benji felt almost delirious with the relief that flooded him. In the split-second that their eyes connected, Will gave him a tiny nod.  
  
Alright, simple plan. Distract the asshole until Will got free and got them both out of this.  
  
Benji turned his attention back to Gerard just in time to brace for the next hit. Face again. It already felt tender from when Gerard’s thugs had slammed him into the floor, and he was working on a magnificent black eye, he was sure.  
  
When all Benji did was clench his teeth and tilt his jaw up again, Gerard pulled away, looking at him consideringly, and grabbed a set of pliers from the table.  
  
Another hot rush of terror shot through Benji.  
  
He didn’t need his face as badly as he needed his hands: he needed to be able to type, to rewire the bombs or doomsday devices or whatever crazy shit the IMF had sent them after that week. Without his hands he’d be bloody useless to the IMF, and, more importantly, the team.    
  
“I’m not going to kill you, you know,” Gerard said, conversationally.  
  
Benji spat out some of the blood gathering in his mouth, aiming for Gerard’s fancy crocodile leather oxfords. “Well, that’s always a comfort.”  
  
“My associates are sending your pictures to all of our contacts. We’ll get your files.” Gerard tossed the pliers from one hand to another. “Soon, I’ll know you better than your own mother.”  
  
“My mother doesn’t know me very well,” Benji snarked back automatically, ‘cause he’d barely been home the past twenty years, and see, this is why he was bad at the torture and interrogation thing, personal information everywhere, he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.  
  
That comment earned him another smack in the face, fortunately from Gerard’s empty hand. “The point being, I’m gonna find who you care about – wife, girlfriend, your fucking dog if I have to – and I will hurt them until you tell me what I want to know.”  
  
_Jeeze_. Normally, he might have laughed at Gerard’s mistaken assumption, the incongruous image of Will – his brilliant, capable Will – dragged in to serve as the helpless damsel. Except Will was tied to a chair next to him, and one wrong move would tip Gerard’s knife to Will instead of Benji. Couldn’t Gerard go back to poking him with the knife instead of making threats?  
  
“You think techies get a lot of dates, do you?” Benji snarked, a little too late, his voice gone slightly breathless with dread.  
  
“Ah, ah, ah,” Gerard admonished, waving the pliers, “there’s always someone. And,” he tapped the pliers to Benji’s nose, “judging from that twitch, there is someone _very special_.”  
  
Benji winced. This thing between him and Will was still very new, only a couple of months, and they hadn’t said—but that didn’t matter right now. He could feel Will’s questioning stare on the back of his neck, but ignored it in favor of staring back hard at Gerard. The even rhythm of Will’s breathing told him he’d gotten rid of his restraints, which meant it was about to be showtime.  
  
“I won’t talk.”  
  
“Oh, I rather think you will.” The sadistic glint in Gerard’s pale eyes, the knife hanging over him, made Benji feel not unlike a small animal struggling on a dissection board. “I’m going to take my time with her. I think you have already had a taste of my patience,” he made another small cut in illustration, “Mr. Comedy.”  
  
From the corner of his eye, Benji caught the movement as Will slipped soundlessly from his chair, disappearing into the darkness of the empty warehouse. _Had to keep Gerard’s attention on him…_  
  
Benji struggled for levity, sarcasm, defiance. _Be active, energetic. Be the most interesting thing in the room._ He pulled up a grin through the heavy bruising on his face. “You are making so many mistakes here it’s sort of amazing,” he said, breathlessly.  
  
Gerard laughed, a sharp, vicious sound. “Yeah? You gonna threaten to fuck me up when you get out of this? Find me and kill me?”  
  
“Well, that too,” Benji said, casually. “But mostly I meant not properly searching your prisoners. Also, my boyfriend is standing behind you.”  
  
“Wh-“  
  
A loud _clank_ echoed through the warehouse as Brandt used one of the instruments from the table to knock Gerard unconscious. He grabbed the man’s shoulder as he went down, lowering him down to the side so he didn’t collapse on top of Benji.  
  
“Hey, babe. Sorry it took so long,” Will said, gently putting a hand on Benji’s cheek and kneeling down in front of him. He grabbed the bloody knife off the floor and started cutting the ropes on Benji’s wrists. Benji hissed as the movement tugged at the cuts on his arm. “You alright?” Will asked, concerned.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Benji waved for Will to help him up and swayed against him as he gained his feet. “Let’s get out of here before that lunatic wakes up.”  
  
“He ain’t waking up,” Will said darkly, guiding Benji to the back door.  
  
They were rounding the street corner when Will gripped him more firmly under his arm and said, “So, special, huh?”  
  
“Oh, god,” Benji groaned, “can we do this when I’m not bleeding all over your shirt? Maybe after I’ve had some trauma counseling?”  
  
“We don’t have to do this at all.” Will’s grin softened into a gentle smile, a hint of sadness sneaking into the expression. He pulled Benji close against his side and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Thank you.”  
  
Benji _hmmph_ ed non-commitally.  
  
“Come on, let’s get you fixed up.” Will’s smile turned feral again. “And then I’ll show you I think you’re plenty special, too.”


End file.
